


consequential musings

by orphan_account



Category: No Fandom
Genre: I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, My First AO3 Post, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 16:44:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13768287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A stupid little poem nobody will probably read--my own little existential crisis wrapped up in an ao3 post.





	consequential musings

I often think of my thoughts like a well,

no matter how deep I reach, how many I draw out,

more rush up to take their place,

a bottomless pit, a never-ending circle,

a riptide current pulling me out to sea.

and my thoughts control me like nothing else can,

guide me and destroy me in equal measure,

define me and blur my edges all at once.

navigating them is like sailing the strait of Odysseus,

the narrow passage between Charybdis’ whirlpool and Scylla’s cave.

I think I am thoughts, in a way:

if I’m not, am I my brain? 

(thoughts are firing neurons in my head, my brain—am I electricity and charges?)

my body? my figurative heart? my soul? 

(are souls thoughts too? are they part of you? or are they what’s left of you after the end?)

or is it all? or none? 

I sit, and think, and wonder if I’ll ever come close to knowing.

it’s like how you’ll never realize how you’ll go out until it happens,

and that day will come. (be it today, a year, ten years, a hundred, a thousand—and how can we judge it?

it’s all so unclear, so relative—a million years is forever to us,

yet but a blink of an eye in the scope of eternity.)

nobody can protect your flame from dimming.

like Achilles and Patroclus, hiding from fate together,

(and although they tried to stray from the world together, Hector had to die;

destiny always comes knocking, and better to die a purpose than none at all.)

nobody can save you from what happens in the end:

your destiny-calling, your prophecy cannot be eradicated, no matter how hard you try.

and how do I know I’m anything important at all,

do I have a Delphic vision of my own?

are all my musings inconsequential?

so many questions, yet none have an answer:

will my astral puppet-masters not show their faces?

I recognize I’m an instrument in someone’s orchestra,

but I don’t know if it’s composed by me, if I have a solo or even a key part

or anyone in the galactic audience hears me play out at all.

perhaps, then, I should play for all the audience to hear,

for that must be better than not playing at all,

since you have a chance in the latter but none in the former,

even if nothing happens at all.

and isn’t that what we’re here to do? if that isn’t it, I’m not sure what is,

but I’d rather go out and be remembered than fade into silence,

and how better to be remembered than by something you helped to shape, to create?

even if you were one assisting hand in a sea of millions.

the cosmos is so huge, and we’re so tiny,

in the scope of everything, ants at the universal picnic,

but like drops of water in a stream flowing over rocks,

we can make a difference in the end, together.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are cherished and comments bring me coffee so I can have the energy to write some actual fandom fic. I might take this down eventually, but I wanted to post something for once.


End file.
